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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158666">It's What My Heart Just Yearns to Say</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory'>whisperedstory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Truth [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Jaskier is a little shit, M/M, Truth Spells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:55:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt gets hit by a truth spell. His only hope is that he can brew the antidote and break the spell before Jaskier notices. But of course luck is never on a witcher's side.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Truth [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1920</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It's What My Heart Just Yearns to Say</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/gifts">non_tiembo_mala</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayAndJackLover/gifts">JayAndJackLover</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I needed to write something short and sweet to distract myself today. And since I'll be working from home for a while and that's two hours of commuting to work that I'll save each day, I'll have a little more time on my hands to write things like this. So if you have any prompts, hit me up!</p><p>Written for prompts by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala">non_tiembo_mala</a> (who also betaed this! Thanks, love!) and <a href="https://twitter.com/JayAndJack290">JayAndJack290</a> &lt;3</p><p>Title from "Fair" by The Amazing Devil.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Fuck," Geralt spits out. "<em>Fuck</em>."</p><p>He riffles through the saddlebags, vials of potions and little satchels of herbs and other ingredients. He knows he has everything he needs somewhere in here, it's just a matter of finding it and brewing the antidote. Which will take him about an hour to make, give or take, which is… well, not good. </p><p>That's an hour he'll be under the truth spell—a final gift from the sorceress who has been wreaking havoc in the nearby town—before he can break it. An hour with Jaskier.</p><p>
"Maybe he's asleep," he mutters and Roach snorts. Geralt glares at her and then instantly feels bad, patting her side reassuringly.</p><p>"What? A witcher can't have some dumb luck once in a while?" he asks. "Maybe you can distract him for me, hmm, Roach? Nip him a little. Just make him forget I'm even here so he won't try to talk to me. I can't talk to him."</p><p>Roach neighs and Geralt is pretty sure she's laughing at him. Fucking figures.</p><p>"I can't tell him," Geralt insists and gods, he just wants to stop talking. The words are bubbling up in his throat, spilling out unasked. "He's just so… infuriating. He never stops talking and he turns every damn thing into a song and he has zero self-preservation. He drives me fucking insane. I just want to lock him up and keep him from getting his stupid ass killed and maybe touch him a little. A lot. Oh gods."</p><p>"Geralt?"</p><p>Geralt whirls around. Jaskier is standing there, decisively <em>not</em> asleep, and Geralt can only hope he's far enough away that he couldn't hear what he just said. "Go away. Don't talk to me," he grits out.</p><p>"Right, yes, of course. You would much rather have a conversation with your horse than me," Jaskier says. "But… are you okay? I'm not sure what you were rambling about, but you were definitely rambling. That sounded like more words that you usually speak in a week, so you might see why I'm slightly concerned."</p><p>"I'm under a truth spell," Geralt says and fuck, someone kill him <em>now</em>. He should give Jaskier one of his swords and just ask him to put him out of his misery. </p><p>"A… what?" Jaskier says and then his fucking face brightens. "Oh, this is good. This is so good. Are you sure?" </p><p>
"Yes," Geralt growls. "It's not funny, Jaskier. Go away, now. Far away."</p><p>"Oh, but why the hell would I?" Jaskier asks and steps closer. He's a fucking pest. A pest Geralt adores and for fuck's sake, even his thoughts are betraying him now.</p><p>"Finally, <em>finally</em> you will share your stories with me. Do you know what this even means? How many ballads I will be able to write." </p><p>"I will kill you," Geralt mutters and then grimaces. "I won't really kill you, of course. I would never. I can't stand the thought of hurting you."</p><p>"Oh. Okay?" Jaskier looks puzzled. And steps closer, still, and Geralt can smell him, sweet and light and so fucking good it makes his blood boil. "So, where do I start. The bruxa, maybe? Or no, the basilisk. Or the wraith? How long will this spell last, exactly?"</p><p>"Until I've brewed the antidote," Geralt replies and right, the antidote. He fishes the last two ingredients he needs out of the bag and stalks off towards the campfire. Jaskier, of course, follows.</p><p>"Well, don't hurry on my account," he says cheerfully. "So, stories. Oh no, wait. Before we get to the nitty, gritty details of your… <em>witchering.</em> Tell me, dear Geralt, since you never do. How much do you like my songs?"</p><p>Geralt presses his lips together, trying to keep the words in, but it just makes him feel like he's suffocating. "More than I want you to know," he mumbles, dropping down by the fire. </p><p>"Ha," Jaskier exclaims.</p><p>Geralt grabs the little pot they travel with quickly, pours water from his waterskin into it and then hastily starts tossing in herbs and powders. </p><p>Jaskier sits down next to him, a gleeful look on his face. "Why wouldn't you want me to know? Why not tell your very best friend that you appreciate his talent?"</p><p>"Because I will say too much and for gods' sake, Jaskier, you need to stop asking questions," Geralt snaps. "Or I will tell you how your voice calms me down and that's ridiculous. How sometimes I listen to you mumble and fucking hum in your sleep, because it's soothing and you fucking snore, by the way, and who in their right mind would find that adorable?"</p><p>"Uh, you, apparently?" Jaskier says hesitantly and then an indignant look passes his face. "And I don't snore. Perhaps I just breathe loudly because you tend to smell so awful."</p><p>"Well, you don't! You smell all sweet and comforting and like <em>home</em>," Geralt grits the words out, his clenched jaw doing nothing to shut him up and it's starting to ache, but well, Geralt probably deserves the pain. "And I want to bury my face in your neck and I want to bite you and I want to pin you down and fuck you until the only word you can still utter is my fucking name."</p><p>Geralt is breathing hard when he's done, stirring the concoction in the pot erratically. </p><p>Jaskier is silent.</p><p>Geralt fixes the pot to the wooden construction he built above the fire the previous day to cook food. </p><p>Jaskier is still silent.</p><p>"You can leave now. I won't stop you," Geralt says, eyes fixed on the watery mixture in the pot. He doesn't want to look at Jaskier, doesn't want to find out if he's looking at him with disgust or pity. He doesn't know which one would be worse.</p><p>Jaskier clears his throat. "The first time I saw you I thought, well, that's a man that looks like he knows a few good stories. But that was only the second thing I thought. The first was, well, that's a man I would like to take to bed. That's the tame version of my thoughts anyway, because believe me, there were a lot of details; I am a poet after all," he says, and his voice is soft, serious. Geralt has stopped moving completely. "And I know how your mind words, my dear, so let me reassure you before the thought even crosses your mind: figuring out you're a witcher did not change that one bit."</p><p>"Why are you telling me this?" </p><p>Jaskier laughs quietly. "A truth for a truth," he says and gets up. He stands close to Geralt, and Geralt doesn't breathe his scent in deeply, but he wants to. Jaskier touches his shoulder, fingers brushing against the bare skin of Geralt's throat. "As much as it pains me, I will not be asking you any more questions. In fact, I will take my lute and go sit with Roach and let you brew your antidote in peace."</p><p>"Thank you," Geralt says, something in his chest unraveling. </p><p>*</p><p>Jaskier looks up at him, head tipped back against the tree behind him, and smiles at Geralt as he approaches. It's not one of his big, cheerful smiles, the ones he puts on around people. It's a soft tilt of his lips, his expression open and vulnerable and hopeful.</p><p>"Did you break the spell?" he asks.</p><p>Geralt can still taste the antidote on his lips, bitter and pungent, and he drank twice as much as necessary just to be sure. He nods silently, and Jaskier's smile gets a little wider, amused.</p><p>
"Ah, there's the silent witcher I'm so used to," he says. He pats the grass next to him. "Come sit with me."
</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Don't fret, my dear, I won't make you talk," Jaskier says teasingly. "But now that you're not under any spell and once again in full possession of your mental faculties, I would really like to kiss you."</p><p>Geralt sits, but he makes sure there's some distance. "Jaskier."</p><p>"Don't tell me you want to talk when, for once, I'm not trying to make you," Jaskier says. "You've already shocked me enough for one day."</p><p>"Are you sure?" Geralt asks, and he doesn't know if he wants Jaskier to say yes or no. He knows the smart thing would be to push Jaskier away, drop him off in the next city and not let anything happen between them. He's already let this go on for longer than he should have, let Jaskier get too close. There's nothing but heartbreak and death where Geralt goes, and Jaskier should be in some court, adored and applauded, instead of trudging down dusty roads with him.</p><p>But Geralt doesn't know if he can do that—let go of Jaskier. </p><p>"Geralt, look at me please," Jaskier says. Geralt is helpless not to do as Jaskier asks. Jaskier's eyes look even bluer than usual, wide and honest. "I'm sure. I have never, not even for a second, not been."</p><p>It's selfish, it's wrong, but Geralt kisses him then. Cups Jaskier's face in one hand, puts the other on his nape and tugs him close, and brings their mouths together. Jaskier tastes as sweet as he smells, and Geralt chases the taste, presses his tongue past Jaskier's lips, their mouths moving together wetly. </p><p>When they break apart, just a little, just far enough that Geralt can make out the smile on Jaskier's face. </p><p>"You," Jaskier says, "taste positively disgusting."
</p><p>"The antidote," Geralt grunts and tries to put more distance between them.</p><p>Jaskier laughs. "Oh no. No, come back here," he says and tugs Geralt close again, holds his face in his palms. "Not disgusting enough not to kiss you. Never."
</p><p>He brushes their lips together, kisses Geralt sweet and soft, once, twice, three times. "Now," he murmurs. "I remember you saying something about wanting to pin me down and fuck me, my dear. And I really must insist that you show me just what you had in mind."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://twitter.com/whispered_story">twitter</a> | <a href="https://whispered-story.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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